


we're burning one hell of a something

by estrella30



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Slight Pain Kink, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:08:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrella30/pseuds/estrella30
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben goes with Harry when he gets his birds tattooed and then lots of sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we're burning one hell of a something

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cantgetnoworse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cantgetnoworse/gifts).



> so basically coolbreeze noticed an article about harry's bird tattoos from nov of 2012 and in the article there's a picture of Ben in the tattoo parlor with Harry. I, being a crazy person, emailed cantgetnoworse and proceeded to have a ten email long breakdown about this, and basically this entire fic is the writing out of those hysterical emails. OOPS. M, YOU ARE GREAT. ILU.
> 
> so many thanks to mrsronweasley for reading this MULTIPLE times and saying in no uncertain terms that no, nan, harry really wouldnt need to NAP between orgasms, and also mediaville for her supreme beta skills. you both rock!
> 
> for the interest of this fic ben isn't married when it takes place. 
> 
> any remaining mistakes are completely my own!

*

 

It doesn’t take Harry long to decide on the type of birds he wants to get inked on his chest. He’d had an idea in his head already and winds up only flicking through a few pages before finding the ones he likes and jabbing a finger at the two swallows facing each other in the middle of the book. 

“These, yeah?” he says over his shoulder. 

Ben wanders over from where he’d been looking at the framed pictures on the walls. There’s one of a dark red heart with a knife stabbed through it, then another with a girl riding on the back of a dragon with bright orange wings. “Let me see,” Ben murmurs, then nods and touches Harry lightly on the back when he leans in closer to the page. 

“Nice,” Ben says. 

Harry looks up, the fringe of his hair falling in front of his eyes and he tugs it out of the way. “They’re good, right?”

“Definitely,” Ben says. His lips are quirking as if he’s trying to bite back on a smile. “What would Niall say? _They’re sick, mate,_ ” he says in a truly terrible imitation of Niall’s accent. “ _Wicked_.”

Harry laughs, loud and happy and leans back. Ben’s hand covers nearly the entire small of Harry’s back. The backs of Harry’s thighs press against the front of Ben’s. He can feel Ben almost completely around him, his heat and smell and the brush of his sleeves against the bare skin of Harry’s arms. 

“You ready?” Ben says. He’s leaned down so his mouth is against Harry’s ear. Harry reaches behind him, curls his fingers around the side of one of Ben’s thick thighs and squeezes. 

*

Harry loves everything about getting a new tattoo. The smell of the shop, the dull buzzing sound of the tattoo gun, the low music pumping through the speakers. It’s relaxing and fun and a bit erotic, letting someone take control over your body like that. He usually goes by himself to get his work done, but he’s glad he has Ben with him today. Ben being here is another whole element; Harry loves it. 

“You doing ok, H?”

Ben’s sitting next to him scrolling through his mobile while Harry’s laid back in the chair. He’s got his legs crossed at the ankle and he’s watching Harry intently, eyes moving with the needle as it colors Harry’s skin. Harry can almost feel Ben’s eyes on him, has been able to all day. It takes a lot for Harry to control himself when he’s getting inked to begin with, half hard and having to pull one off quick in the loo before he leaves the parlor most of the time, and having Ben here is making it worse. He can't stop buzzing with the awareness of Ben's eyes on him. 

“”M’good,” Harry says. He looks away from Ben and closes his eyes. He tries to concentrate on the hands on him, the needle working his skin, the damp rag wiping away the blood and ink, but all he can think about is Ben. Ben sitting with him the whole day. Ben watching him. Harry’s dick twitches and he bites back on a groan.

The chair drags along the floor then and Harry hears Ben get up, his boots clicking along the tile. Harry twists his head around and spots him with his hands behind his back staring at a sheet of butterflies and birds. Harry smiles. 

“Too late to decide on different ones,” he says. 

Ben chuckles. When he turns around to Harry his eyes are crinkled at the corner and teasing. “Just picking out one for next time. You could always get a pretty butterfly.”

“A butterfly,” Harry says flatly. 

Ben shrugs, lips curved into a smirk. “Yeah. A big one, right where everyone can see it. Right in the middle of your chest, say.” Harry rolls his eyes but Ben continues. “Big and dark and stupid.”

“Should I name it after you?” Harry teases. “Because you’re big and dark and stupid?”

Ben narrows his eyes. “Watch your mouth, Styles.”

Harry’s dick goes thick in his jeans just from the tone of Ben’s voice. He swallows, throat already dry and curls his fingers into fists. He wants Ben to wreck him, is the thing. Harry’s pretty much always felt that way. The rest of the lads have had quite a laugh over Harry’s “ridiculous crush” as they always put it, but there’s just something about him. Something about his size, or the way he seems to always want to take care of Harry in every way possible. Harry tries not to look at it too hard but it’s difficult. Like being shown everything you’ve ever wanted, but never knowing if you’re going to be allowed to get it. 

“And anyway, no. I wasn’t looking for you,” Ben says with a shrug. “I was just... looking.”

It takes a second for Harry to drag his thoughts back, but when he finally cottons on he feels his face split in a smile. “Were you looking for _you_?” he asks. “Do _you_ want to get something done?”

“No,” Ben says. He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. Harry watches him though; he can tell Ben’s not entirely telling the truth. “I couldn’t. Dave would take the piss forever.”

“So get one he can’t see,” Harry says easily. He shrugs and looks away, feeling Ben’s eyes on him all the same. “Get one that’s private.”

Ben’s quiet. He walks back over and stands next to Harry’s seat, watching the tattoo take shape, the birds wings go more defined, the lines along their back as sharp as a pin. Harry reaches out his hand to touch and Ben presses his fingertips along Harry’s, twists their fingers together and tugs a little, just enough that Harry’s biting his lip and trying not to move too much in his seat. 

“Maybe,” Ben says, voice low and dark. “We’ll see.”

*

It’s torture, is what it is. Harry’s been more than half hard all day, everything made worse by Ben’s solid presence at his side. His huge hand pressed against Harry’s back wherever they’ve gone, and the indulgent smile he gives Harry whenever Harry talks. Harry’s seen the way Ben looks at the others, he knows Ben cares about them all too, but he seems to care just a little bit more for Harry. He seems to have a certain smile that’s for Harry alone. Harry loves it. 

After the tattoos are wrapped, Harry heads out, the bright afternoon sun nearly blinding him after being inside for so long. He stops by the door and takes out his mobile to call for a car but Ben’s hand stops him, plucking the mobile from Harry’s fingers and shoving it into his own front pocket. 

“Wait,” Ben says firmly. “Not yet.”

Harry shivers, the constant thrum of need sliding through his veins. His dick presses uncomfortably against the zip of his jeans. Harry needs to get off so badly even his teeth are aching from it. 

He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. “What?”

“Figured we’d take a walk,” Ben says with a shrug. He curls an arm over Harry’s shoulders, pulls him just close enough that the cotton of Harry’s shirt pulls across the birds. His skin is already throbbing, the ache from the tattoos pulsing along with the beat of his heart, and he hisses quietly. When he looks up Ben’s smiling. 

“Where are we walking?” Harry asks. 

“Nowhere far,” Ben says. “Just down to the corner for some food. I already called ahead and they have a table set aside for us, yeah?”

Harry breathes in through his nose then exhales slowly. He looks up and Ben is grinning at him, his arm still firm around Harry’s shoulders, fingers digging into Harry’s bicep. 

_Just a few more hours_ , Harry thinks to himself. _That can’t be so terrible._

“Sick,” Harry says, proud that his voice cracks only a little. “Lead the way.”

*

The restaurant is the worst kind of torture Harry’s ever experienced. He’s hard and aching through all of it, his skin on fire whenever he moves. He’s desperate to get back to the hotel and take everything off; his shirt so he can let the tattoos breathe, his jeans and pants so he can get his cock out, have a fast wank to finally get some relief. Harry thinks about fucking down into the mattress of his bed after, working himself over long and slow, the bruised skin of his tattoos rubbing against the duvet and his fingers around his cock dripping wet with slick. 

Ben’s quiet on the ride back to the hotel, his fingers drumming a steady beat against his thigh, but he’s watching Harry, Harry knows it. He’s seen the way people look at him sometimes - he’s not vain, but he’s not stupid either - and Ben’s been watching him today like normal, like his mate Ben, but also a little like something else. Like he’s maybe thinking things too. Maybe he’s been wondering about Harry the way Harry’s been wondering about Ben. 

Harry would ask - he’d say something to try and find out exactly where Ben’s head is at - but he’s afraid if he opens his mouth he’s going to start doing horrible things like begging Ben to come back to his room and fuck him, or pleading with Ben to let Harry suck his cock. Harry’s shameless at the best of times but that might be too much even for him. He settles for shifting a little closer, letting his leg press against Ben’s in the car and smiles to himself when Ben’s hand slowly slides over from his own thigh to Harry’s lap. Ben tightens his fingers - just the smallest amount - and Harry makes a soft sound low in his throat, leans in closer and let’s Ben’s hand slip to the inside of his thigh. 

The car pulls to a stop and they duck into the hotel as discreetly as possible. Harry keeps his head down through the lobby, Ben’s hand a solid presence against the small of his back, guiding him through the corridors. The doors to the lift open and Ben pushes Harry inside, then holds his hand out for Harry’s key card. He swipes it through the reader and presses the button for Harry’s floor and then steps back, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the numbers of the floors tick by over their heads. 

Harry looks at Ben and licks his lips. “You coming to mine?”

Ben nods. “If you’re not opposed to it.”

Harry balls his hands into fists to keep from reaching out and grabbing Ben in the middle of the bloody lift. That would probably not be for the best. He manages to nod, gets out a strangled, “No, no, that’s fine. Great. Ace, really,” and Ben rests his hand on Harry’s shoulder and then drags it down his back, the tips of his fingers pressing into this spine as he goes.

 

*

Harry’s barely got the door to his room closed when he feels Ben at his back, his arms reaching out to press against the wall and trap Harry where he stands. Harry bites his lip until it hurts, the skin pulling off between his teeth. His eyes fall closed and he leans back so he’s pressed all along Ben’s front, hands reaching behind him to find something to hold on to. He manages to grab Ben’s waist and he twists his fingers in the bottom of Ben’s shirt, tries to drag him closer but Ben is solid and heavy, an unmoveable weight behind him. 

“Harry,” Ben says. His voice is syrupy sweet, low and soft. “Is this what you want?”

Harry can’t figure out how to make his mouth work. He wants to tell Ben that yes, god, of _course_ it is. Jesus, fuck, it’s all Harry’s ever wanted, really. He’s wanted Ben to want him, to do whatever he pleases. Harry’s blood is rushing through his veins, he feels shaky almost, desperate with wanting Ben to touch him. The wall is cool against Harry’s hot cheek and he groans low and broken, nodding fast and rolling his hips back.

“Words, H,” Ben says firmly. He noses along the back of Harry’s neck, teeth biting at the shell of his ear. “You need to say it.”

“Yeah. Yes.” Harry twists until he’s facing Ben with his back against the wall and looks up. Ben’s watching him with dark eyes. His fingers drag over the curve of Harry’s cheek and Harry turns his head, chases Ben’s fingertips with his mouth. “I want you. Fuck. So bad.”

Ben settles his hand on Harry’s jaw. He tilts Harry’s head to the side and swipes his thumb over Harry’s bottom lip before pressing down gently, the tip of his finger dragging over the edge of Harry’s teeth. “What do you want?” Ben asks. 

Harry can’t concentrate, his mind a jumble of everything he wants and needs bouncing off each other and not letting him settle on any one thing long enough ask for it. He wants Ben’s mouth on him, wants his fingers spreading Harry out on the bed, holding him open. He wants Ben’s teeth and his tongue and to feel Ben’s dick hard against Harry’s thigh. Harry wants to suck him off, wants Ben to fuck him. He wants Ben to take him apart piece by piece and then put him back together in the slowest way possible. Wants everything so much he’s shaking with it, fingers clenched tight in Ben’s shirt. 

“I want to suck you off,” Harry finally says. He licks his lips and stares up into Ben’s eyes. Harry’s been thinking about this forever it seems like, has wondered how Ben would feel on his tongue, sliding into his throat. He hopes Ben fucks his mouth, hopes that Ben just uses him, takes whatever he wants. “Please.” 

Ben dips his head down and kisses Harry almost gently. He cards his fingers through Harry’s hair and tilts his head to the side; licks into his mouth slowly, carefully. Harry moans deep, pushes up on his toes and hangs onto Ben’s shoulders as they kiss. He feels twitchy and restless, like his body is too large to fit inside his own skin. Ben’s trying to slow him down, calm him, but Harry can’t take it. He’s thought about this too long. He needs and wants and he’s going to take. 

“On the bed,” Harry says. He pulls away from Ben’s mouth and curls their fingers together, pulling Ben after him. Ben looks happy with him, a pleased smile curving his lips. Harry’s chest puffs up proudly, a slick roll of pride zipping through his veins. He wants Ben to be happy. He wants to _make_ Ben happy. “Sit on the edge, yeah?”

“I thought--” Ben’s voice gets caught around a moan as Harry shoves Ben onto the edge of the bed before dropping to his knees. He yanks Ben’s shirt out of the way with shaky fingers and fumbles with his belt and flies. “I thought I was the one who was supposed to be the director here,” Ben finally manages to get out. He sounds breathless, a short laugh puffing out on a breath, and Harry feels a burst of pride swell up in his chest. 

“Later you get to direct,” Harry tells him, smiling cheekily. He glances up and Ben is just so fucking fit, his huge arms and the stubble coloring his face and throat. Harry wants to rub himself all over him, wants Ben to mark him up, wants his own fair skin to go red and blotchy and sore with pain. The sun is setting, shining in red and gold from the windows. Ben’s hands slip back on the satin of the dark green duvet and Harry growls low in his throat. “Clothes off now though, please.”

Ben touches Harry’s mouth fondly. “Since you asked so nicely,” he says around a smile, and kicks his jeans off onto the floor. 

Harry has no idea what to touch first. He fits his hands over the muscles in Ben’s hips, curving his fingers and digging them into the tan skin. He slides in closer, knees dragging along the rug and noses the inside of Ben’s thigh, biting at the skin there, tugging on the short hairs with his fingers. Ben hisses above him, settles his hand on the back of Harry’s head and Harry groans, nudges closer and slips his fingers under the bottom edge of Ben’s boxers. 

“Fuck,” Ben says quietly. His fingers tighten in Harry’s hair and Harry pushes up into it, breathes out, “You can pull harder,” when Ben gets a fistful and tugs. Harry palms Ben’s cock over the thin material of his boxers and he can feel Ben’s dick kick up into his hand, the material going damp under his palm. Harry squeezes, mouths over the cotton and then Ben is pushing Harry back just enough to shove his boxers down and hauling Harry back in, dragging him up close enough to kiss. 

“Christ, Harry, you’re so good but _fuck_.” He bites down on Harry’s neck, mouths over his jaw and twists the handful he’s got of Harry’s hair in his hand and tugs. “You need to be careful. You can’t just let people _do_ this to you.”

“You’re not people though,” Harry murmurs. He leans in and his shoulder bumps against Ben’s chest. It hits his tattoo and his hisses and bites back a curse. “You’re _you_ ,” he mumbles against Ben’s chest. “You’d never hurt me, not unless I wanted it, yeah?”

“ _Harry_ ,” Ben groans. He pulls Harry in again and kisses him roughly, tongue pressing into his mouth and his fingers holding Harry’s jaw still in the palm of one huge hand. 

“‘M’gonna suck you off now,” Harry mumbles against Ben’s mouth. “It’s going to be so good, I swear.”

Harry hears Ben moan as he ducks down, curling his fingers around Ben’s shaft and licking over the head. He doesn’t want to tease, wants Ben to remember how good Harry was and what a good job he did, not that Harry teased too much to start with. 

He lets his jaw relax, takes Ben in as deep as he can and sucks. Ben’s hips jerk, the head of his cock nudging the back of Harry’s throat and Harry gags a bit, a rough cough being ripped from his throat. Ben tries to pull away but Harry digs his fingers into Ben’s calf and holds him there, sucks him until he’s got spit sliding over his fingers and down the side of Ben’s cock. Tears prick the edges of his lashes but he keeps going, sucking harder and working Ben over with his hand. 

It’s good, it’s so _fucking_ good. Ben’s hot and slick, shoving up into Harry’s mouth and making the most amazing sounds above him. Harry’s so hard already just from the fact that he’s here, he’s sucking Ben off and Ben wants it - wants _him_. The idea is heady enough that Harry thinks he could come from that alone but it’s so much more than that. It’s the whole day - Ben coming with him for his tattoos, Ben taking him out to eat after that. It’s the way Ben is watching him, the feel of his hands in Harry’s hair. Harry’s body is buzzing with want, the hot skin of his new tattoos pressing and rubbing against his shirt, bumping into Ben’s knees and twisting Harry’s insides back and forth from pain to pleasure over and over again.

 

Harry groans so deep when Ben fucks into his throat he can feel it all the way to his toes. He can’t tell their choked moans apart, can’t figure out which one of them is hissing and cursing. He’s so hard he thinks he might explode and he shakes when he shoves a hand down the front of his jeans, fingers rough and tight around his dick as he fucks up into his own fist. Ben slows down in his mouth, touches his fingers to Harry’s cheek and presses against the head of his own cock over Harry’s skin. He drags his hand down Harry’s cheek, around the front of Harry’s neck. Slides his fingers under the cotton of Harry’s shirt and covers Harry’s skin with his hand, fingers laying light against the ink of the bird as he traces his fingers over it. 

“‘S’this ok?” Ben’s pulled back a little but Harry sobs in the back of his throat and pulls him in closer. His skin is tender and sore, but the way Ben is touching him, the rough of his fingertips scratching over the sensitive ink is the best kind of pain. “You like that?”

“Yeah,” Harry whines. “It’s so good; don’t stop. Please, don’t--”

His body feels like it’s on fire, his cock thick and his tattoo aching. Ben presses again, his fingers laying just a bit harder against him and tears spring to Harry’s eyes, cling to the edges of his lashes. He has to pull back, can’t concentrate on Ben’s dick in his mouth, can’t do anything at all, really. Everything in him feels liquid, like his bones have melted inside him and he’s only being held up by leaning into the vee of Ben’s thighs. 

Ben keeps touching him, lightly tracing his fingers and nails and the pad of his thumb into the hot pulse of his tattoo and Harry’s vision goes white, his body flashing from hot to cold. He tightens his fingers and fucks his fist harder, pulling roughly, and his orgasm hits him quick and hard, rolling up from his thighs and shooting his load into his hand and boxers.

Harry’s limp when Ben drags him up, licking the curve of his throat and biting down before shoving Harry onto the bed. Harry wipes his fingers off on the duvet and slips them into Ben’s hair, holds him closer while Ben works over the skin of Harry’s neck with his teeth. Ben sucks hard enough to bruise and Harry loves it, he wants Ben to mark him up everywhere. 

Harry crawls back on the bed and Ben strips Harry’s clothes off, the stretched out t-shirt and his messy jeans and boxers. He tosses them behind him onto the floor and Harry just lies there and let’s Ben take care of him. Harry’s never felt so cared for as he does with Ben all the time in everything they do. He’s not surprised that this is no different. 

“You all right?” Harry asks. His throat is scratchy and rough. He blinks and finds Ben getting rid of the rest of his own clothes; his shirt tossed over onto the sofa and his boxers kicked off from around his ankle. “Wait, come back.” Harry wiggles his fingers in the air and motions toward the bed. “Come over here, I didn’t get to finish.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Ben says softly. He smiles as he climbs onto the bed, kneels next to Harry and drags his fingers up the inside of Harry’s thigh. Harry’s skin prickles and he shivers. “You will.”

Every inch of Harry’s skin is too sensitive, his belly and chest and the insides of his thighs where Ben is touching him. His dick twitches, too fucked out to get fully hard right away, but Ben’s hands are hot on him, the slow way he’s touching Harry the most amazing kind of tease. 

Harry can’t breathe - feels like he’s been trying to all day but can’t seem to get enough air into his lungs, everything too much and not enough at the same time. He’s almost ashamed at how much he still wants Ben, wants Ben to fuck him. He shouldn’t be so greedy but Harry can’t stop the need clawing out from his chest. 

“I still want you,” Harry moans. He curls over and buries his face against Ben’s chest. His dick kicks a little, almost hurting and he ruts clumsily into Ben’s hip. “God, I’m sorry, I just can’t--” 

“Hey, ssh.” Ben kisses Harry’s cheek, pushes the hair back from his forehead and lays his lips there. It’s so gentle it makes Harry’s face go pink and hot. “It’s all right. Whatever you want, H, I promise.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut and nods. He doesn’t know how to tell Ben about everything he wants. He feels like he’s being greedy for wanting Ben still, for wanting even more, but he can’t stop. He feels like he’s choking on it, gagging with everything he needs. 

“All right.” Harry sucks in a breath as Ben kisses him harder, tilting Harry’s face up and licking into his mouth. “I want - I want you to fuck me,” Harry says. He bites his lip and looks up into Ben’s face. “I want it really hard. Like. Like when it hurts a bit.”

Ben’s quiet for long enough that Harry’s worried he’s cocked it all up somehow, but then Ben just smiles a little, says, “Yeah?” and lifts an eyebrow. His dick bumps against Harry’s hip, the tip wet and hot where it drags on Harry’s skin. 

“Yeah. I like it like that.” Harry’s voice wobbles. He clears his throat and says, “When it hurts. I want--” Ben leans in and touches his mouth to Harry’s tattoo, lips warm and stubble rough. “Fuck,” Harry says and covers his eyes with his hand. His fingers are shaking. 

Ben _hmms_ and slides down, tongue flicking against his chest and stomach, fitting into the hollow by his hips. He pats Harry’s chest with his other hand and lifts his head, eyes dark. “Only with me though, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry nods. “Yeah, if you want, I just - I really want that. Want only you.”

“Good,” Ben says. He bites at Harry’s hip, pulls the skin with his teeth and slips his hand under the back of Harry’s thigh. He slides a finger up and presses against his hole, dry and rough and Harry’s hips buck on the bed, thighs shaking. “‘Said you liked it when it hurts a little. It’s going to hurt a lot more than that when I fuck you.”

“God, please, yeah,” Harry babbles. He reaches out and yanks the bedside table drawer open, throwing everything to the floor until his fingers close around the half empty tube and a strip of condoms he’d stashed in there the other day. “Do it now, come on.”

Ben flicks open the lube and pushes Harry’s knee up and to the side. He licks over Harry’s cock, mouth so fucking hot and wet Harry has to bite down and try to keep from coming from that alone. Ben’s fingers are tight around his dick and then they’re sliding back down dripping wet this time. Harry lets his legs fall open, wanton and shameless and needing Ben so desperately he’s going crazy with it. 

“Please,” Harry whines. His face feels like it’s on fire. He scrubs his hands over his eyes and rocks down when Ben pushes a finger in. Harry’s been fucked before but he’s never wanted it so badly, he’s never felt so open, so ready for it. He wants Ben’s dick inside him, wants to feel him splitting Harry open, taking him apart piece by piece and then keeping Harry to himself. All the parts of Harry that he’s never given to anyone else he wants to give to Ben. “Oh god, fuck me.”

Ben laughs quietly and bites the inside of Harry’s knee. “Soon, babe.”

Harry whimpers, tosses his head back and forth on the pillows and tries to think of anything but the way Ben’s hands feel on him, the two fingers he’s got slid up inside him, how hot and tight everything must be. He can feel Ben on every inch of his skin, inside, outside. He’s consumed by him and doesn’t think he’s ever going to want or need anyone else ever again, as long as he can keep having this. Harry can’t stop thinking about it, about how it’s _Ben_ that’s touching him and his cock jerks against his belly, wet blurting at the tip. He reaches down to touch himself when Ben’s hand on his wrist stops him. 

“Not yet,” he says, then waits for Harry to lift his head and look at him before continuing. Harry blinks. He can barely focus and Ben slides his fingers out then goes back with three. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry groans. He drops his hands to the sheets and twists them in his fingers, yanking them up from the bed and pulling. Ben’s fucking into him steadily now and Harry can’t stop. He can’t stop talking, can’t stop gasping and moaning. He’s squeezed his eyes shut and is cursing loudly, telling Ben every stupid thing that he’s ever wanted to say. 

“I want you so fucking much, all the time. Fuck, Ben, I just--”

“Hush, Harry,” Ben scolds. He smacks Harry’s thigh and Harry curls up, crying out in pleasure when it forces Ben’s fingers deeper inside of him. “You’re being so loud. ‘D’you want everyone on the floor to hear? You want them all to know what I’m doing to you?”

Harry does, is the thing. He doesn’t care who knows anything right now. He wants Ben and he wants his fingers and his cock and he wants Ben to fuck him until he can’t see straight. He wants it wet and dirty. He wants to rip the sheets off the bed and for everyone to hear how thoroughly Ben is taking him apart. 

“I do,” Harry gasps. He fucks down onto Ben’s fingers, feels them brush up inside him and nearly comes from the hard press of his fingertips. 

“You want them to know how badly you want this, Haz?” Ben says thickly. Harry blinks, his vision gone fuzzy and white. “Want everyone to know how easy you are for me? How good you are?”

Harry’s cock jerks, wet blurts out the tip and he moans, broken and loud. “God, please, I can’t--” Harry can’t concentrate, can’t think. He knows he’s being so loud but can’t seem to find it in himself to care or to stop. He wants to shout down the room, to scream until his voice is gone. Ben curls his fingers and pushes, then slides them out and pats the inside of Harry’s thigh. 

“No, don’t stop--” Harry feels frantic, desperate for Ben’s fingers or mouth or cock. Tears spring to his eyes and he blinks them back, his eyelashes coming away wet. “Please, don’t stop now, you have to fuck me, I need--”

“Ssh,” Ben says gently. He’s leaned over Harry and kisses him, mouth almost sweet compared to the way he’d just been fucking Harry with his fingers. His tongue is gentle and soft. He licks over Harry’s teeth, the roof of his mouth. Harry reaches up and holds Ben in place and kisses him back trying to let him know everything Harry is feeling, how much he needs him from just his mouth and tongue. Harry can hear the rip of the condom packet and then Ben fumbling as he slides it on. He passes his fingers over Harry’s hole again and Harry shakes, desperately eager and ready. 

“Easy, babe,” Ben says softly, and starts to push in.

The first press of Ben’s dick is almost too much. Harry’s strung so tight he feels like he might snap in two. He tries to relax, lets his legs fall open and breathes deep as Ben presses into him inch by inch. Harry pushes the sweat damp hair back from his face and rocks down, just the smallest amount. 

“Fuck,” Ben hisses. His face is flushed, hair gone dark at the temples. The muscles in his arms shake as he holds himself over Harry, and then he pulls out and pushes in hard, not stopping or giving pause and Harry loves it. He doesn’t want soft and gentle, he wants Ben to wreck him.

“Do it,” Harry grits out. He forces his eyes open, watches the way Ben’s concentrating so intently on fucking him. It’s so much, almost too much, and Harry can’t think about it too long or he’ll think he’s making the whole thing up, somehow letting one of his most prized fantasies come to life. He reaches down to feel where Ben’s dick is slid up into his body, flicks his fingers against Ben’s nuts and Ben curses, shakes and fucks into Harry deeper. “Come on. Harder.”

“Harry--”

“Do it _harder_ ,” Harry grunts. He wants Ben to use him. Split him open and take him apart piece by piece. He can’t stop urging Ben on, telling him what he wants, how badly he wants it. Ben’s hand is tight on Harry’s hip and the other passes up his chest, laying over one of the birds and making Harry’s body clench hotly around Ben’s cock. 

“Is that good?” Ben asks. 

Harry nods quickly, curses and pleas tumbling out of his mouth, his voice getting louder the harder Ben dicks into him. Ben’s hand slides up from the birds, the tips of his fingers dancing over the base of Harry’s throat. Harry goes to bite him, turns his head so his face is pressed into the palm of Ben’s hand and Ben curves his fingers and holds them there over Harry’s mouth, just for a second, just enough for Harry’s dick to jump and wet his stomach as it slides through the slick pooling on his belly. 

Harry bites Ben’s palm and Ben yanks his hand away. His eyes spark and he opens his mouth but before he can do something ridiculous like apologize Harry nods hectically, grabs Ben’s wrist and pulls it back towards his mouth. “Do that again,” Harry says, voice strung out and rough. “God, _please_.”

Ben grunts, rocking his hips up and nods. He curls his fingers over Harry’s jaw, the palm of his hand bigger than the entire bottom of Harry’s face, fingertips lightly rubbing against the side of Harry’s jaw, the soft skin by his ear. The skin on his fingertips is rough and he presses down, completely covering Harry’s mouth with his hand. It’s so fucking hot Harry can’t take it. He breathes through his nose and licks at Ben’s fingers digging the tip of his tongue into the grooves of his knuckles. Ben’s fingers get tighter and Harry bites down, sucking on the skin and holding it between his teeth. 

Ben’s moaning, almost growling as he fucks Harry over and over. “You all right?” he asks. Harry nods and Ben drops his thumb down, presses it hard into the dip of Harry’s throat. Harry feels his breath start to come short, his throat teasing the brink of closing up, and his vision whites out as he comes lightning fast between them, his orgasm shaking through him like a storm, leaving him heaving and breathless on the bed. 

Harry breathes deep, throat raw and dry against the air. Ben slides his hand from Harry’s mouth into his hair and tilts Harry’s head to the side, kisses the spot he’d pressed under his thumb and keeps fucking him with short, erratic thrusts. 

Harry opens his mouth to tell him how good it was, but no sound comes out, just a cracked whimper and a shaky breath. Ben’s eyes go wide, and Harry shakes his head, croaks out something which is supposed to be Ben’s name and Ben makes a broken sound, dropping his head against Harry’s and kissing him frantically, over his eyes and cheeks and mouth. 

“Harry, love, I’m sorry.” Harry shakes his head, tries to let Ben know that he’s not upset, that he loved it, but Ben’s barely focused, just fucking into Harry harder and harder, breathing Harry’s name into the space between their mouths. 

“So good,” Ben gasps, “You take it so good. Such a good boy.” 

Harry whimpers and bears down. He hooks his leg over the back of Ben’s calf and holds him there, pressing his heel into Ben’s skin and keeping Ben close to him. 

“Again,” Harry whispers. His voice is ripped apart, thin and shaky. Ben’s eyes stare into his and Harry licks his lips. “Say it--”

“Good boy,” Ben says. "You wanna be my good boy?" Harry nods, eyes slipping shut, body going loose soft, almost melting into the bed. Harry feels so good, so relaxed, like Ben could stay like this forever, could just keep fucking him and fucking him and Harry would never want for anything ever again. 

“I’ll be good for you,” Harry mumbles. “Promise, I’ll be so good.” 

Ben curls his arm under Harry’s shoulders and drags him up, licking into his mouth and rocking against him hard enough that the bed starts to shake. Harry’s head bangs into the headboard, the sheets are a twisted mess under their bodies, but Harry just moans happily and kisses Ben back, kissing him and kissing him until Ben bites down on Harry’s lip and comes, his arms holding Harry close, keeping Harry with him through all of it.

*

Harry falls asleep first and wakes in the morning to find Ben sitting at the desk with a plate of food in front of him, Harry’s set to the side under a silver cover to keep it warm. Ben’s got a piece of toast in one hand and is popping a red grape into his mouth with the other. Harry stretches and winces. Every single thing about him hurts in the best way possible. He’s just about to reach over and try and find a bottle of water when Ben turns and finds him awake, a bright smile stretching across his features. 

“Morning,” Ben says. He’s in a pair of dark blue trackies and nothing else. His hair is still mussed from sleep and the stubble on his face darker and thicker than the day before. 

Harry wants to drag him back into bed and never let him leave. 

“Morning,” Harry says, voice rough. Ben winces when he hears it. His face goes pink and he looks away and fiddles with Harry’s tray of food. 

"Hungry?"

Harry laughs quietly, stretching his arms over his head and yawning. “Always.”

Ben’s quiet for a minute, then comes over and tentatively sits on the edge of the bed. He looks strange, almost unsure of himself. It’s an odd look for him. “You feeling all right this morning though?” Ben asks. 

Harry stretches his body out and takes stock. His mouth is dry and his muscles are sore. His head is pounding. His throat is raw and killing him, and he wonders what shape his voice will be in and how long he’ll have it for today.

His tattoos are red and tender and throbbing in pain every time he so much as moves, the skin tight because he forgot to put cream on them before falling asleep. He’s got an ache in his legs from when Ben fucked him, a tightness in his chest from when he went short of breath, and the memory of Ben’s fingers over his mouth, his thumb pressed firmly against his throat seared into his brain as the single hottest thing that’s ever happened to him. 

Harry grins brightly. He reaches out and grabs Ben’s hand, pulling until Ben falls over. He lays down next to him and Harry pulls him close, his arm thick and strong around Harry’s back. “Never better,” Harry says softly, and tugs Ben close enough to kiss.

 

-end-


End file.
